


iridescence.

by 1roomdisco



Category: NCT (Band), School Rapper (Korea TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Class Differences, M/M, Romantic Friendship, Sexual Tension, joseon era seoul, mark's mom is white and he's a natural blondie, omega mark lee, yoonho is a scholar
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-28
Updated: 2018-09-28
Packaged: 2019-07-18 21:06:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16126751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1roomdisco/pseuds/1roomdisco
Summary: Seoul, 1931.





	iridescence.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The next time Yoonho pays Mark a visit, he has to tilt his head to talk to him; smiling that cheeky smile Mark secretly admires and pretending to sound annoyed as he says,

“Your height has surpassed me yet again, Mark. How unfair.”

Mark flushes, unable to comprehend the joke at first. He wants to protest that it is beyond his power that an omega is able to get taller than an alpha, but then Yoonho laughs at the expression he’s currently having, and everything makes sense again.

“Why are you laughing?” he pouts, scrunching his nose and slumping his shoulders. But his Oxford has heels. It’s no use.

“My apologies,” Yoonho chuckles, at the same time reaching a hand out towards Mark. He asks, with the ever so polite tone he has whenever he’s initiating direct contact unlike any other alphas Mark has met, “May I?”

And Mark’s heart always flutters at such minuscule yet gentlemanly act. He hasn’t been an omega for long; back when he was in Vancouver, a few of his alpha playdates found him too delicate, while his beta friends had treated him like he was another entity altogether. When mother died and father decided they needed a break from grieving by coming back to his motherland, Mark had only been an omega for a couple of years. His father has set him up with a number of alpha playdates from reputable families around Seoul, and he met Yoonho just last year.

Today, Yoonho is offering his arm for Mark to take. It’s scorching hot in Seoul. Holding hands would be unnecessary, and Mark is glad that Yoonho understands; one can only blame the weather for his sweating palms so much.

They’re strolling around Gangnam after Mark’s Sunday morning mass. Yoonho doesn’t go to church, but he will pay Mark a visit whenever he’s got spare time. He’s studying medicine at Gyeongseong Imperial University*, made a promise to take Mark to one of his classes one day. Mark has private tutor who comes thrice a week to teach arts, poetry, math, and sociology.

Today’s chaperone is Mark’s driver, a quiet but strong beta who walks exactly ten meters behind the two of them. He carries a gun, hidden behind his nice, modernized hanbok.

“How was school?” Yoonho asks, spreading his free arm to steer Mark away from a pothole, gently, without pushing too much.

“Uneventful,” Mark answers, feeling his cheeks heated because he wasn’t paying attention to where he’s going. “How about you?”

“We went to the morgue last Tuesday,” Yoonho says, “wasn’t exactly a pleasant experience.”

“Oh?” Mark blinks, tightening his hold on Yoonho’s arm.

“People kill others,” Yoonho hums, “mostly with poison. Or a knife. Human body is so fragile. I have heard about doctors who help the law enforcement bringing justice to the dead by examining the bodies. I am very interested in that.”

Mark nods.

Yoonho smiles, squeezing Mark’s hand, sending a jolt of surprise through his spine.

“I’m sorry, I hope I didn’t upset you at all with the gruesome talk.”

“No, no, no. Never, Yoonho-sshi. You could never, um,” Mark bites his bottom lip or else he will blurt out things that should never be spoken without consulting father and brother first—though, if Yoonho wants to talk about gruesome thing, then this _thing_ has been killing Mark ever since Yoonho brought him flowers a year ago.

Mark clears his throat, ignoring the burn in his heart and on his face.

“I am sure you will fit the job,” he says, smiling, and if Yoonho senses anything he doesn’t voice out what he thinks.

Yoonho smiles back at Mark, his eyes disappearing, telling Mark that he’s thankful about Mark’s encouragement.

They walk some more until they reach the cute tea shop that Mark has wanted to visit for quite some time now. Mark sees familiar faces from his church and greets them, Lady Margaret in particular is giving him a silent nod of approval upon realizing that Yoonho is an alpha.

Yoonho gets them a table by the wide window, overlooking a neat alley. Mark’s driver is sitting at the back of the establishment where other drivers or maids are to have a little time out for themselves.

After the waitress takes their order, Yoonho says, his voice is exceptionally soothing like he has predicted what he’s going to verbalize might make Mark shy.

“I enjoyed the last letter you sent. I have to admit I am quite surprised that you feel the same way.”

Mark lowers his head, not out of embarrassment _but_ in submission and he makes sure Yoonho knows his intention.

And does Yoonho _know_.

He leans closer, whispering, huskily, “Would you prefer to discuss such matter in a more private setting?”

Mark fights the urge to close his eyes. Oh the sole effect of Yoonho’s voice has rendered him speechless. He had just attended a mass, for Christ’s sake, he needs to tame his impure thought.

Mark takes a deep breath before releasing it.

His voice is shaky when he answers, “I was being daring, Yoonho-sshi, but I—I meant everything what I wrote in that letter.”

Yoonho has his hands clasped on top of the table, the knuckles are turning red with how strong his inner will is from keeping himself to touch Mark.

To claim him as his mate, like what Mark had written in the letter.

“And I am for real surprised,” Yoonho says, then he breaks the spell with a genuine thank you, offering Mark the complimentary biscuit on the table.

Mark decides to look at Yoonho from behind his eyelashes and he doesn’t need words to convey his desire to be fed with Yoonho’s very own hand, an intimate gesture only mated alpha and omega usually do.

The clock strikes nine in the morning.

The chattering from other patrons are quieted down as they keep their eyes on each other.

A white noise is entering Mark’s head as he opens his pink mouth, even before Yoonho moves to take a biscuit from the basket.

Yoonho clenches his jaw. His Adam’s apple is moving.

The very next day, Mark gets into heat.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> * seoul national university
> 
> \- listen i didn't write fic for one (1) WHOLE month consider this a practice lmao
> 
> \- if, say, 5 people are intrigued with such setting and my take on a/b/o ~~and the heat sex~~ i will write the next chapter
> 
> \- help out a bro by giving kudos and comments
> 
> \- thank you  
>   
> 


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